


Northern Fall

by TechieHux



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autumn, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Homophobia, M/M, Religious Guilt, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 14:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18471013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechieHux/pseuds/TechieHux
Summary: Ben has everything under control. Both of his secrets are safe, his grades are passable, and his mom isn't terrified of him anymore. It's a good life, but nothing quiets the ache in his bones.Something is wrong.Something is missing.And the key may just be his new neighbor.





	Northern Fall

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be for Kylux Titleception but my life is a messy tangle and I always have to scramble for things either late or really, REALLY last minute! (TT_TT)
> 
> Hope you enjoy! <3

Ben Solo comes down the steps of his home on a chilled September morning and skids to a stop. For as long as he can remember, there’s been a sugar maple tree in the front yard, off to the right of the driveway. It began small, just as small as baby Ben had been, and stretched up and up until Ben hit 6ft and the sugar maple left him in the dust.

This time of year, the sugar maple tree drops its colorful leaves like rain, and they’re falling over the strange young man under the foliage. A large leaf lands on his shoulder, the same red-orange of his hair. When he turns to face Ben instead of staring up at the blue sky as he’d been doing, the autumn leaf floats to his feet. A breeze passes between them. Ben steps forward, and the stranger says primly before anything else, “You must be Ben. Your mother said you’d give me the tour.” 

Of course. This is their new neighbor, the youngest Hux. He hadn’t planned to spend his Sunday morning as acting Tour Guide, not when it was his only rest day, but having your mom be Mayor of a small, close-knit town often called for pretending to be more sociable than you are. 

“I go by Kylo Ren,” he’s quick to correct. Brown leaves crunch under his boots as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. His eyes are so clear, like ice. It’s not the time for ice and snow, not quite yet, but Hux’s demeanor brings it to mind. Distant, cool. Like this means nothing. And, Ben supposes, it doesn’t. 

“Pleased to meet you, Kylo Ren,” the junior Hux says, looking none too pleased. “My name is Hux. Just Hux.” He makes a pursed-lip kind of look that makes his eyes go a little darker. Those cheekbones of his could cut if he got too close. “I’d rather you didn’t stare at me so. I haven’t got time for standing around in the cold, being appraised.” Hux shrinks into his thick, military-green peacoat and shivers. 

Ben flushes. “I wasn’t- Yeah, whatever. Let’s get this over with. Two hours or so should cover it. We’re not so big, out here.” 

“I thought most places up north were big cities,” Hux muses, shoving his gloved hands into the deep pockets at the side. “Your quaint town wouldn’t be out of place in Iowa.” 

“Is that where you come from?” Ben starts towards the town center: the full-to-bursting general store, weathered town hall, the cozy church. The accent makes Hux hard to place; more faux-refined British than American. 

“No,” Hux sniffs, offended. “Unfortunately, I last came from Florida. The sun was dreadful for my skin.” He doesn’t trail after Ben’s long strides, matching each step pace for pace and Ben is impressed. He purposely picks up speed to watch Hux go red in the face to keep up.

“Florida is a hellhole, I’ve heard,” Ben says easily, about to continue with a compliment about how pretty Hux’s skin is, looks so smooth, but it dies when he realizes the implications of what he’s about to say. Choosing a stranger to be the first person you sort-of come out to can’t be smart. Hux levels him an odd look like he sensed more to be said. Still, he doesn’t push it.

“It is,” he agrees, and they lapse into an easy silence.

 

* * *

 

They stop after a quick trek in front of the town hall. It’s two floors tall with smooth, white walls and long, arched windows. The gravel path to the double-doors is littered with leaves, which a young man dressed in a black quilted-jacket and matching tiny cap tries desperately to rake, only for the wind to mess up his neat piles. He curses under his breath, cheeks pink from the chill and embarrassment, and stops entirely when he spots them.

He says while leaning on the wooden stick of the rake, stumbling over his words, “Oh, Mr. Organa! You’re here! I didn’t- you don’t usually- um. Your mother is inside!”

“Thanks, Mitaka.” Ben cringes at being called his real name, hoping Hux hasn’t noticed. But no; those sharp eyes are trained on him and he _knows_. “She asked me to show the new neighbors around. This is Hux.”

Hux stretches out his gloved hand regally towards Mitaka and Ben catches a strip of his delicate wrist. “Charmed, Mitaka.”

He takes the hand with wide eyes, a little breathless, and says, “No, the- the pleasure is all mine! Call me Dopheld.”

Everybody in town knows how Dopheld swings. That’s why the best job he can get is lawn maintenance, why no one besides Ben’s mom would hire him for anything. Kid couldn’t hide how a pretty man makes his knees weak, and that’s why Ben is infinitely better than Mitaka. Smarter.

“C’mon, Hux, let’s go inside,” Ben cuts in, brusque, face darkening, and storms up the steps. Behind him, Hux follows and the receptionist lets them in with no issues upon seeing Ben.

“Do you not like him, Ren? He seems nice enough,” Hux comments nonchalantly as they go up the creaking stairs to Mayor Organa’s office, Hux’s hands tight on the railing.

While relieved that Hux called him the right name, he tenses his shoulders and hunches inward, frowning. “No, he’s uh, he’s okay. Just. Don’t get his hopes up.”

Hux raises a single arched brow. “I don’t like men like him.”

“You mean because he’s a queer?” Ben spits, trembling. Fuck. Shit. They stop at the top of the stairs, half a foot from the narrow hallway that leads to his mother’s office. She can’t hear this. She can’t. Ben is going to fucking lose it if the only new guy in ages turns out to be a cishet homophobe, like everyone else.

He’d hoped-

He’d already-

The look Hux levels at him is bored. “I much rather like men like you,” he says and rolls his eyes. Like saying, “ _Catch on, stupid. I know my kind.”_

And Ben is so relieved the exhale is punched out of him, eyes wide. This is… somehow, this is even worse. Their eyes lock, and Ben can’t look away.

Mayor Organa throws open the door before they have a chance to move. The hinges creak loudly and she’s on the phone even louder:

“No, we can’t fund that just yet! It would be irresponsible to allocate funds for the school into- Hi, Ben!” Mayor Organa puts her hand over the phone’s speaker and smiles at her son, eyes tired and hair slipping out of her messy buns. There’s a pen behind her left ear and ink stains on the front of her white blazer. She gives Hux a mega-watt grin and a little wave before saying, “Honey, sorry, I’ve gotta take this but I’ll be home around eight, okay?”

She’s side-stepping them and halfway down the stairs by the time either Hux or Ben think to react. The frenetic, busy-buzzing energy to the Mayor slips out of the room with her, leaving them bereft.

“She’s not busy at all, is she?” Hux comments, wry, and Ben chuckles despite himself.

He leans on the wooden rail and rakes a hand through his hair, making sure the thick black strands fall over his ears. “My mom runs most of the clubs and groups around here. Everything ends up on her shoulders, somehow. Maybe she’s just the only one who knows what the hell they’re doing.”

Hux’s chest puffs out, proud. “Not for long,” he says, giving Ben a smirk. 

Warmth coils in the pit of his stomach. That cocky look on Hux’s face is doing things to him… it’s more potent than a syrupy smile, more real.

He clears his throat, suddenly shy, and juts a thumb towards the stairs. “Guess our Mayoral meet ’n greet’s been cut short. We’ve got a few more places we can check out if you want.”

Hux says, “Lead the way,” with his fucking delicious accent and the ramrod-straight set of his spine, eyes cool with lashes lowered.

Ben is terribly, terribly smitten and it’s a shame this will end before it starts.

 

* * *

 

The tour stretches on until late afternoon when the skies darken as the chill of the wind increases. He’d bought Hux a warm mug of pumpkin spice coffee at Maz’s diner and introduced him to his younger cousin, Rey, who’d teased him about the coffee flavor.

Hux had huffed and excused his choice by saying they surely wouldn’t carry his favorite tea. Ben asked, curious, “Which one?” and Hux answered some obscure, organic tea called… bitter Tarine? Expensive, imported stuff. Pumpkin spice coffee it is.

On the way back to their neighborhood, walking side by side in no hurry and bathed in the dimming light as Hux tries to slurp up the coffee through the thick red straw as silently as possible, Ben turns to him and asks, “Do you think you’ll like it here?”

Hux grins around the straw. “Perhaps.” That’s good enough for Ben. They get up to the front door of Hux’s new home, up the few steps, the onyx-metal 1841 plaque reflecting a shine from the moth-swarmed porchlight.

His job is done- he doesn’t have to devote another thought to Hux. But he will, Goddamnit. He knows he will. Ben shifts his weight from one foot to another, curling into his black jacket. They’re lingering in the front like first-date lovers, watching, wondering who will be pulled forward first for a sweet kiss. Hux’s breathing has sped up, and how Ben can tell when it’s so subtle, he already knows.

He’s worrying his bottom lip, chapped from the chill.

“Hux…” Ben murmurs, inching closer, mesmerized at how beautiful this man is. Hux’s eyes are warm and wanting. This feels bigger than the both of them, something predestined and _right_.

_“Ben Solo!”_ He jumps out of his skin, twisting back to see who called him, and aches as Hux’s face shutters once more, cold and aloof.

It’s a person calling out from the rolled-down window of a sleek car, face just out of sight in the shadows. But that voice is instantly recognizable from years of weekend training.

“Leader Snoke,” Ben says and bows his head, instinctive. Hux assesses Ben silently and follows suit, inclining his head in deference. Yet his fists are so tight the empty coffee cup caves in.

“I’m glad you’re home now, young man. It’s getting awfully dark to be out.” There’s a smile in his tone laced with warning, clearly visible though his face is not. “Is that the new boy with you? Armitage Hux?”

Ben turns to look at him. Armitage? Hux flushes red as his hair but does not so much as twitch his lips, tense. “Yes, sir. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“It’s always nice to have new faces around, isn’t it? Your father I met earlier in town; a fine fellow indeed. We could use more upstanding young men. I hope you’ll be a good influence on our Ben, Armitage.”

“Upstanding” seemed to soothe some deep ache in Hux’s chest. He preened under the praise and radiated pleasure like a visible halo. God, but he was gorgeous.

“I shall try, sir. Thank you.”

Ben was about to cut in, but Snoke beat him to it: “Your presence was missed today, Ben. You’ll bring Armitage around to mass next Sunday, won’t you? I’d love to show him the stained glass.”

There’s nothing to do but bow his head and agree. What Snoke wants, Snoke gets. Always. It’s what he deserves for all the good he’s done for this town, for Ben himself. Ben owes him his life.

“Goodnight, boys. See you soon.” He pulls up the car window and drives off, ten miles over the speed limit.

They stand in silence and watch his car disappear into the darkness. Ben huffs a laugh and says, “Way to get cockblocked.”

Hux rolls his eyes and fights the upward twitch of his lips before swatting at Ben’s arm and saying, wry, “Down, boy.” He leans forward, further into Hux’s space, hoping to resume where they left off. Hux grins like he knows, he _knows,_ he’s so beautiful, Hux is-

There comes a heavy thump from inside the house on the second floor, lights flickering to life past the windows. Hux stiffens. “Goodnight, Ren.” When he turns and rushes into his house, door slamming behind him, the scent of his cologne lingers in the air. Ben stands and takes it in with a deep inhale before going down the steps, into his empty shell of a home.

 

* * *

 

Hux’s dad is a heavy-set man, stern and stout, and this fact Ben learns when the man slams his porch door at four am, getting into a tidy pick-up truck that leaves the driveway with tire streaks. Ben wakes ten minutes before Hux Sr. exits the house. Nothing woke him but the sudden shock of insight: Brendol Hux. That’s his name.

He lies still in the rumpled sheets. Focused on breathing. In, out. In, out. He feels Hux shifting in his own room, blankets like satin over his smooth skin. Ben IS Hux, for a split second, waking to the sound of his father rummaging downstairs; then turning with a groan onto his side.

Suddenly Ben is pulled into his own body once more- just in time to watch Brendol leave from his second-floor window. He’s sweating profusely, temple soaked, pulling the heavy blinds aside to observe Brendol’s military stride.

“Shit,” Ben whispers. “ _Shit.”_

* * *

 

 For three days, Ben doesn’t see him again except in visions: Hux sleepily slipping into his shoes in the mornings; Hux at the university’s admissions office a few miles out, turning in his sealed transcript; in a silk robe, draped over the back of the couch. He can’t _stop_ them, these mundane and painfully precious glimpses.

He used to be better than this.

Angry at his lapse in control, Ben spends every moment out of class up in the cramped, dim-lit attic, pummeling the shit out of the punching bag until his knuckles swell, bruise, and the skin cracks open. When the fight bleeds out of him, Ben finds himself slumped on the ground against a wall, eyes squeezed shut.

_Hux is sitting straight-backed at a wooden desk, his long fingers dancing gracefully across the lined sheets of a leather journal, thick and worn. There’s schematics, diagrams of airplanes and building, ships. He can name every single one despite drawing up a blank- Ben’s never seen them before but Hux has, Hux lives and breathes these drawings because they’ll inspire his own creation, the one he’s been working on for years and-_

Ben clutches his head until his fingers go white and screams into his lap, curled over. He hasn’t been this weak since he was a young boy, when he discovered his abilities and cried every night to sleep because his parents refused to meet his eyes.

Snoke will… Snoke will know what to do. How to return to normalcy. Hux has, inexplicably, thrown his powers into disarray but this can surely be fixed. Sunday he will meet his master and explain, once Snoke has been satisfied with formally meeting Hux.

The darkness of the room is doing nothing to soothe his migraine. It smells of sweat and blood from his training, making Ben’s stomach turn. He drags himself downstairs only to run into Leia, who gives him a strained smile from the living room. She’s only just walked into the house, hanging her coat up and dropping her purse, but she must have heard his yells.

“Rough day, sweetheart?”

“Fine,” Ben grits, shoving his battered hands into his pockets.

He knows what she’s thinking but is too cowardly to mention. When you pretend nothing is wrong for years, that nothing has changed, it becomes too difficult to disrupt the status quo. As far as Leia was concerned, his abilities had gone quick as they’d come, though the worry ate her from the inside. She never mentioned her suspicions.

Ben ignores the rest of her words, goes into his room and locks the door behind him. Meditation will hold him over until Sunday. It must.

He shoves open the drapes to let the moonlight stream in. Hux’s window is two feet across from his but always covered, always closed. Not tonight. Ben opens the window and waves.

“Ren,” he says, surprised, and his hand freezes above the page. His robe he pulls closed over his chest, pulling it up from where it was sliding off his thin shoulders. “Forgive me, I was enjoying the chill.”

Ben’s mouth goes dry. Hoarse, he soldiers on: “No, it’s… don’t apologize. I’m glad you’re up. I could… I could use the company,” he admits, heart pounding. What a beautiful man. The kind of man he could take and take from and never be full.

A shame he’s so damn visible in this town. He wants to escape into the night with Hux, with the only other gay man in this quaint, godforsaken place besides the squirrelly, kiss-ass Mitaka.

His stomach turns even more. No. He shouldn’t- He shouldn’t _want_ this.

Hux’s lips move but the sound is carried away by a sudden gust of wind, leaves riding the air. Ben gestures for Hux to wait a moment and ducks for his own spiral notebook. It’s the one for Art History, covered in half-finished sketches and graffiti curse words. He rips the back page of it and scrawls his phone number on the back of it, holding it up to the window.

Hux’s lips quirk up. Within seconds, Ben gets a phone call and presses it eagerly to his ear. “There!” Hux grins, amused. “Now we won’t have to shout between our houses and wake the nosy neighbors. I’m glad you’re up too, Ren. Your tour was rather enjoyable.”

“I don’t want to interrupt you,” Ben breathes. His eyes linger on the pencil that’s about to roll off the desk. “Pencil!” he blurts out, and Hux’s quick reflexes catch it. He presses the eraser to his lips.

“Well, I _did_ want to finish this sketch by tonight… how about we keep each other on the line while I work? That way we’re not alone.”

It’s so startlingly intimate that Ben goes tongue-tied. Instead, he nods and Hux smiles. He sets the phone down and puts it on speaker, on his own desk. Ben grabs his Prismacolors and starts doodling if only to mirror Hux. But the soft lines take on a harsher look, sharp, and before he’s aware of it the sketch morphs into Hux’s hard cheekbones, the soft cupid’s bow of his lips, orange strokes for his brows and sideburns.

They’re quiet as they work. On the other line, there’s only the sound of soft pencil scratches and the even breaths Hux takes. A sigh, sometimes. It’s divine. They’re not in the same room but their presences are entwined all the same.

 

Nothing has ever felt so right as this.

 


End file.
